


Reboot

by PastaBucket



Category: Hellraiser (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Angst and Smut, Buddhism, Eventual Smut, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Horror, Rape, Sexual Tension, Uncle/Niece Incest, Zen Buddhism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-23 03:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 6,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17072546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastaBucket/pseuds/PastaBucket
Summary: This is a reboot of the first Hellraiser movie, that is fairly different, written according to my own taste.First off it completely rewrites the Hellraiser cenobite mythos to make it more real. Instead of vague ties to christianity, it now has strong ties to zen buddhism instead.Second off, it's more psychological horror, than visceral horror, since I'm not a fan of gore.Third off, Frank isn't as much of a sleazeball in this story, and since I find that too many roles get in the way of the plot of a short story, I cut mom and dad out of it, leaving a 16 year old Kirsty in the temporary care of a 35-40 year old Frank for a few days.(Tip: If you're looking for the smut, it's in Chapter 8-9, and then in Chapter 16.)





	1. Frank gets the box

**Author's Note:**

> I'm quite happy with this story. The Hellraiser series has been a complete mess even from the first movie, with Clive Barker not even being consistent with his own book, and later on being completely hijacked by Dimension Films and Tunnicliffe, which just ran it into the ground for monetary gain, and I'm glad to have finally set the plot straight, at least in my own head.

The high midday sun falls upon the bustling unpaved streets of a small Middle Eastern village somewhere on the far outskirts of civilization.  
Among the villagers going about their daily providing for their families, a man's footsteps come to a pause in view of a door to an inconspicuous home. They belong to the only white tourist that's paid the village a visit for years, guided to this very home by a series of guides either paid handsomely or seduced into inquiries. His name is Frank Cotton.

Frank approaches the door and knocks. There is no reply. Undiscouraged, he tries the door handle and, finding the door unlocked, promptly opens it and enters the small abode.  
By contrast the darkness inside is blinding, with only thin streaks of light seeping in through the gaps in the carefully boarded up windows. They reveal a silent, messy home, where dried leaves and headless hens hang side-by-side.

Frank peers around in the darkness, wondering where to start looking, when the face of an old, seedy man emerges from the shadows. He adresses him in a calm, detached manner. "Welcome, traveller. What's your pleasure?" The merchant isn't bothered by the intruder at all, or concerned with his mortality - he's expecting the occational visitor, rare as they are.

"I'm looking for something.", Frank hesitates.

"Aren't we all?", the merchant replies.

"Something special - 'not for public consumption'."

There is silence, so Frank strides up to the table and pulls up a chair.

"My curiousity has brought me all over the world. I followed the rumors and they lead me here - to a man, they say, who knew fully the heresy of Gautama Buddha."

"Curiousity can be a dangerous thing, Mr. Cotton."

"Yeah, well I can handle myself.", Frank sneers. "I'll be blunt: I'm looking for the final gate. They tell me you have it." "I have money.", he adds hesitantly. "...although...", he looks around at the evident disregard for monetary status around him.

His wandering eyes snap back to the table as the merchant decisively brings down a box on its center.

"What's this?", he wonders to the merchant as the latter retracts his hand from the artifact and back into the shadows.

"You have the look of a man who's read everything, and sampled every taste of flesh the civilized world has to offer. Am I right?"

"Wait, how did you know my name?", Frank realizes with a tingle of anxiousness.

"...but the final gate cannot be described in a book,", the merchant continues. "nor can its mechanisms be contained in the most obliging of whores."

Frank stares at the ornate box, unsure what to make of it.

"Take it!", the merchant commands. "It's yours. It always has been."

Frank throws the box another glance. "Just like that? No strings attached?"

The merchant merely laughs at his words, and as his amused laughter continues, fueled by a madness Frank is quickly growing uncomfortable with, a sourceless chill breeze carries with it the soft rustling of chains from somewhere in the darkness. Frank decides to seize the opportunity to grab the box from the table and make a hasty exit. As Frank closes the door behind him, the merchant's laughter cuts off, to be sharply replaced by the noises of the dusty streets of the normal world once again.

Frank turns the inconspicuous box over in his hand, tracing his thumb over one of its intricate faces, and from somewhere, he finds a reason to smile at his prize. Something is telling him that he got exactly what he came for.


	2. Frank works the box

Secluded from the worldly distractions of the rest of the world, Frank pored over the box, the fingers on his two hands traversing its hardwood leaf gold surfaces like a pair of driven spiders, fueled by eagerness and frustration in equal amounts, prying at even the slightest unevenness to work at. He'd quickly recognized the first 48 mechanisms, as they had all been described to him in the Mumonkan, but the box didn't stop at such childsplay. It required them all to somehow interlock inside, and to do so without any tells. At times he imagined he could hear the yielding sound of wood sliding against wood somewhere inside, but when he listened for it again, the sound was gone. It had given him all the tools, and then just left him to fumble around in the dark like a blind man.

Somewhere, pushed aside to the sidelines of his manic obsession, there was hunger, and there was sleep deprivation, screaming for his attention, but such attachments to the mortal flesh no longer mattered. Steadily seated in the lotus position, drifting into and out of consciousness, drenched in sweat, his fingers still traced the box, as days and nights passed like dreams around him.

...until it finally fell out of his hands.

He couldn't.

He'd come this far. All the confidence he'd spent to fuel his determination, all the dedication he'd shown, all the years of his life, it had all lead him to this moment, and yet somehow something was so hopelessly missing.

...yet, in his final defeat, he made the decision to live.

Slowly and painfully he unfolded his legs, and remembered what it was like to walk again. Once again he needed food, and sleep.

Maybe if he gave the thing time, he'd come up with something that he hadn't yet thought of.


	3. Kirsty finds the box

The flick of a light switch, and the old basement bathed in a gloomy light.  
Young Kirsty descended the wooden steps. The toolbox that she'd been told to fetch was right there, but her curiousity drew her eyes elsewhere. This was the first she'd seen of her uncle's basement, and it'd be a shame to pass up the opportunity to explore it a bit. As long as she didn't touch anything, nobody would be the wiser.

 

"Jesus - where did you find that?" Frank looked a bit more disturbed at the sight, than Kirsty had hoped.

"It was just lying there.", Kirsty lied with a smile. "Looks pretty. From one of your trips?"

"Yeah, uh, look, put it there and we'll deal with it later." Kirsty put it on the table he pointed at. "Did you at least get the toolbox?"

Kirsty raised the toolbox to him.

 

"This brings back memories.", he said, inspecting the box as if it was just a cube of ordinary wood. Then he turned to Kirsty who was seated opposite him. "You know, you really shouldn't go through my stuff. I stored this away for good reason."

"But it's just a puzzle box.", Kirsty argued. "You always let me play with those. You know I'm careful with them."

"Not careful enough...", Frank said, his voice being a bit more distant this time, as the box began reigniting long forgotten dark chambers of memories in his brain, containing the methods he once was a master of.

"It looks expensive.", Kirsty remarked. "Almost royal, with the gold plating and all."

Frank took his eyes off the box to look at her, trying to reassemble his composure again. "I... There's things I'm not comfortable talking about, even with you. Besides, it's broken. I guess that's why it was so cheap. There's some mechanism inside that doesn't work, and so the whole thing is sealed tighter than a... Well, unopenable."

"Is that even a word?"

"Well it is now.", Frank smiled at his young nephew. There just was no way that he'd return to the box now. He wasn't fortunate to have a family of his own, but he was still very much a part of one. That nagging, clawing feeling that had been awakened in him, and was making its way through his mind, was just something that he'd have to shut out.


	4. Frank dreams about the box

"Flesh...", the soft, disembodied voice whispered to him. "All flesh..."

Around him - protruding from the absolute blackness - large wooden slabs twisted and slid, in a ceaselessly reconfiguring landscape that made sense only to him. This was the box, it's workings, it's mechanisms laid bare. There was Nansen's Cat. There was Gutei's Finger. The mechanisms all surrounded him in a giant, slow, dance. At first he marvelled at their simplicity. It was just as he imagined them to be. ...but then he slowly began to feel like they were mocking him, because the center that they all revolved around, still contained that familiar and frustrating nothingness - a black emptiness where he was yearning for answers. The pieces weren't interlocking at all.

Then, from out of the darkness, he heard a familiar voice.

No! Not here!

He woke up from the nightmare with a jerk, sitting up in the dark bedroom while catching his breath. It took a while before he realized what his fingers were so intently gripping all this time. He yelped and, fighting the urge to send the cursed thing flying into the bedroom wall and no doubt shattering into countless invaluble pieces, just tossed it off the bed, sending it clattering over the floor instead. He then sat there, breaking into a cold sweat, when he felt her stir behind him. He'd woken her up.

"Go back to sleep. It's nothing. I'm sorry I woke you."


	5. Kirsty tries the box

With the continued sleep leaving him no peace, he woke up late. Looking at the floor, the box was gone, and with any luck it was never there to begin with.

When he entered the kitchen in his morning robe, he found to his dismay that he wasn't that lucky.

"I think you're right.", the girl looked up at him from the dining table. "I mean I can feel some panels yield a bit sometimes, but nothing's happening at all."

"Kirsty...", he let out a groggy, disappointed groan.

"Look, I'm being careful with it. You're the one who dropped it on the floor last night. ...which you'll be happy to know doesn't seem to have damaged it, at least as the outer panels go."

Kirsty lifted the box up to her ear and tilted it around a bit, listening for any loose parts.

"Kirsty, put it down. How long have you been at that thing?"

Kirsty looked at the clock. "Oh, it's twelve already? A few hours then, I guess."

"Did you even have breakfast?"

"No.", she admitted, feeling a bit ashamed.

"I don't want it at the table while we're eating at least, so put it away, okay?"


	6. Frank and Kirsty talk about boxes

"Chew with your mouth closed."

"Sorry."

Frank took a deep breath in resignation. "I'm not keeping you away from that thing, am I?"

Kirsty lowered her eyes in a blush.

"When was the first I gave you a puzzlebox?", he continued.

"I dunno. Dad said it was at christmas when I was six. I was too young to remember exactly when. I just remember my own fascination with it, making it transform and change in my hands. I think it was the first christmas that you spent with us, after you returned from abroad. I think it was a simple three by three, by it still took a while to solve it."

"...and now, just ten christmases later, you think you've seen it all.", he sighed.

"Not really.", Kirsty chirped. "I mean there's really only so many ways you can slice a Rubik's, but if we're talking puzzles, then there's always something new every month. Just trying to solve them all would take a lifetime. ...but that's not why I'm fascinated with it. It looks... ...old. I mean really, really old, somehow."

"It has a history.", Frank admitted. "...but nothing as old as the legends it was designed upon."

Frank felt like they were both at the treshold now - the point of no return. Once he lead his niece down this path, it would end in her unmaking. He looked up into Kirsty's eyes, and he pulled back a bit at the sight of the all too familiar eagerness - the desire to know, at whatever the cost.

He desperately hoped that the book would discourage her.


	7. Frank tells of the history behind the box

Frank placed the book on the table for later.

"The roots of the history of this box, stretches far back. Around 400 years before the legend of Christ, in Eastern India, there was a man they called "the Sage of the Shakyas". Unable to face the birth of his own son, he left his royal palace, and set out to seek the true meaning of life. The first people he met, showed him the various pleasures of the flesh, but he soon found that this wasn't enough to satisfy him. ...and so he left them, and instead happened upon the ascetics, who taught him of enduring the renouncing of the body, and to derive pleasure from pain. ...yet even these sensations weren't enough to truly satisfy this man.

...and so one day he came to a final realization so profound that it would shake people's minds to this day: That is was the nature of desire itself, that could not be satisifed.

People soon found him there, sitting under the tree, half dying from starvation. They nursed him back to life, and managed to pry his secrets out of him, and the rest is what we call Buddhism.

For a millenia his teachings were handed down through 28 generations of patriarchs, mercilessly eroding and distorting with the passage of time, until one day the last of his lineage returned to his home in China, and when he was asked what he'd learned on his trip, he replied "Nothing.". This monk's name was Bodhidharma, and he would go on to become the transmitter of Chan Buddhism in China, as its first patriarch.

During the centuries that followed, Bodhidharma's teachings on nothingness themselves drifted apart into several schools, all teaching their own version of emptiness. One of these schools were the Linji school, emerging somewhere around the tenth century. Three centries later, in the early 13th century, Zen master Wumen Huikai brought us this."

Frank gave the book an indicative pat.

"Mumonkan - 'The Gateless Barrier' - is a compilation of 48 koans - mysteries that were meant for the reader to meditate upon in order to reach the insights required to reach the emptiness of the soul. It is said that such meditations could take several lifetimes to fully complete, aligning one's mind in such ways that he would meet the patriarchs along the way.

This bring us to the box. None of the texts mention anything about boxes. I assume that some very crafty and clever cenobite found a way to create all the 48 koans, into physical shapes and mechanisms. They're easy to recognize once you understand them, by how they work. ...but you can't even begin to operate them until you've read the manual for them, hopefully in a text that's been correctly translated into English, and understood them."

Frank gave the book another pat, and then fell silent, giving Kirsty the time needed to realize the futility of even attempting to solve it.

"You look scared.", she chuckled. "What are you so afraid of?"


	8. Frank cares for Kirsty

The first days he couldn't stand the sight of it: Her attention sucked into the box, her hands wrapped around it like a gift, her fingers carefully caressing every millimeter of its panels in endless attempts to seduce into shifting, slowly learning every little sordid secret he had learned those many years ago, secrets that he reluctantly fed her whenever she hungered for more, secrets that intertwined them.

He had to make sure that she was fed, and she hated every time he had to pry it away from her, and somehow he sympathized. ...but he wasn't going to return his sister's child to her a mangled mess, at least as the physical appearence was concerned.

"This - the box, what we're doing - it has to stay between you and me.", he decided. "I don't think this would be something your parents would approve of. They might not let you come here anymore if they knew."

Kirsty looked him straight in the eyes and showed her understanding with a nod. There was no stopping her now. It was hard to get used to it - seeing her inexperienced young fingers tracing the lines of his past sins, as if they were tracing the ridges of his brain, reading his mind, but if she knew, she made no sign of it.

When she slumped too much, he carefully loosened the box from her grip, before leaning her back and picking her up. Her body was much heaviler than then she was a child, but his arms still had the strength. He laid her down, her sleeping face still locked in deep concentration, her young fingers curved and still slowly moving, in a pantomime of something more than just muscle memory.

She made no signs of waking up as he clumpsily removed her shirt, taking care to avoid any skin contact. Next was the pants, along with her socks, revealing a pair of young bare legs. He looked at her bra and panties, but decided against going that far. This was the first time when a girl was lying before him in her underwear when he wouldn't just take what he wanted. Even looking at her that way, was forbidden. ...but sleeping girls wouldn't know for how long he stood there, denying himself. His eyes tracing over her contours, up across her sides, over her cups, and slowly up her thighs to her barely visible venus cleft.


	9. Frank has another dream

The revolving landscape was different now. Instead of dark, ornate panels, the shapes were now of covered in smooth, hairless skin, exposing themselves as they slid into view before him. The mechanisms he now recognized, was those of joints: Arms connected to shoulders, thighs connecting knees to hips, a neck that smelt of a scent that he could barely remember. There weren't whispers anymore, but a soft breathing, that was slowly building around him. He reached out and felt how warm the flesh was. How willing. How slipperingly wet. As he worked it, he felt it shudder and tremble, as the breathing intensified around him. Soon he felt himself too being worked, as hungry, eager hands began caressing over his own flesh, first shyly over his torso, but then in more intimate places still, and soon their flesh slid together, their bodies fitted together in a mechanical rhythm he hadn't remembered for a long time. They were inside eachother now, as pieces of one flesh, confessing their innermost desires to eachother in a neverending melody of sighs and moans, until he finally heard and felt her open for him to pour inside, into her innermost chamber, him finally solving her.

 

He came to with her heavy body limp on top of him, his emptied erection still buried deep into her tight, warm flesh. Her underwear was completely removed now.

He had no clue what to do. The endorphines in his head, released along with his finish, had made his mind too foggy and relaxed to panic.

As carefully as he could, he rolled them both over on her side of the bed, so that he was now on top if her in the missionary position. He looked at her, peacefully sleeping as if nothing had happened, and for a moment he just wanted to fuck her awake and just keep going, consequences be damned. She was so beautiful, and felt even more beautiful than anything he could imagine.

As he slowly and carefully withdrew from her, he felt his niece's young little sheath instinctively clasp around his length, as if begging him to stay. He was hoping that all the semen inside her would have dried up until the morning, and that the kid would never learn about any of what had just happened.


	10. Frank gets out of bed

When he finally dragged himself out of bed, he found Kirsty sitting on the kitchen floor, working on the box again, the book at her side.

"I realized so many awesome things last night.", she said without taking her wide eyes off the box. "I don't think the box will move an inch until I get it all, but it's not just about the box."

"Good morning to you too.", he said, tying his robe.

"It's how people work, isn't it? How we work. How we're all scrambled by false assumptions that confuses us and drives us mad."

"Could you...?"

"What?" She looked up at him.

"Clothes. Put some clothes on.", vaguely gesturing toward her sitting on the floor in only her underwear.

"Yeesh. I figured you'd seen it all already.", she said casually.

The hair on Frank's neck stood up.

"Thanks for putting me to bed by the way. I don't know when I fell asleep, but judging by my clothes being all over the place, I don't think I was the one who undressed myself last night."

Frank decided to head to the bathroom before she noticed how distraught he was. Well out of view, he grabbed the cold sink with both hands and just stood there.

"At least she doesn't know.", he thought to himself. "At least she doesn't know."


	11. Kirsty teases Frank

Kirsty turned over to him. "You wanna feel them?"

"Feel what?" He opened his eyes, and turned to see his niece holding her cover open to expose her naked body and showing off her developing chest. "Jesus!" 

He covered his face.

"It's just flesh.", she giggled, playfully squeezing one of her soft tits. "We're all made of it."

Frank's head reeled and his heart pounded in his chest. Torn between objection and desire, he couldn't find an answer to her question.

His face still buried in his hands, he felt her scoot up to him. "I've seen the way to look at me.", she softly said with a smile. "Something you can see but never touch." He now felt her resting her hand on his hairy leg, in a way too familiar way. "It must be tearing you up inside." Before he could react to any of it, he felt her young, wet lips press against his cheek in a kiss, before she crept back to her own side.

He could tell how amused she was, but the teasing wasn't just a matter for him.

He got done digging his knuckles into his eye sockets and turned to her. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Kirsty? Is it the box? Is it the bed? This has to stop."

Kirsty just giggled at him.

"This isn't a game. I'm not some toy for you to play with.", he continued. "Show some decency."

"Decency?", she showed amusement at the word. "You have the look of a man who's sampled every piece of flesh from here to India, and you're trying to teach me about decency?"

"What did you say?"

"Decency is just an illusion, uncie. Don't you know? Only the flesh is really physically real."

Frank just stared at her, baffled at her words. Just how far was she gone? She had to be solving koans at a daily rate - even faster than he was. This had to stop. He was so glad that her stay was nearly over.

"Fine. If you don't want a piece of me, then forget it.", she joked.

"Kirsty, it's not just flesh! You don't just throw around your body like that. You're supposed to give it to somebody you love. It's supposed to be the most intimate foundation of a relationship - the glue keeping it together." Though he knew that the words he spoke were true, he had never been a believer of them. ...but he wanted something else for her. A normal, happy life. Children.

"You only have one sexuality, Kirsty. Don't waste it on some dead end relationship."

"Jesus - I was only kidding.", she replied with annoyance. She turned her back to him. "Don't be such a perv."


	12. Frank has a final dream

He was back inside the box, and once again the revolving, sliding landscape was different, this time a hellish union of what had come before it: Young, supple skin partially stretched up over wood, suspended across frames, sliding and twisting in joints partly mechanical, partly skeletal, and permeating it all, an alien, foreboding sound. Frank studied it all with equal fascination, equal horror, as the young flesh twisted in new impossible, obscene ways, physically demonstrating one revelation after another.

Then, from out of the darkness, figures emerged. The first man with his mouth sown shut. The second man an unholy union between a man and a fox. Third man fat, holding a knife in one hand, and a finger in his other. By this time he recognized who they were, and that there would be a lot more of them that would gather. They didn't approach him. Instead they formed two rows, along the outskirts of the landscape, and stood there in silent salute of the final figure to emerge at its center. Kirsty slowly strode out into the center, still a good distance away, her eyes fixated only into his.

"I figured it out.", she said, in a tone half-drained of all humanity. "I figured out what the box wants. It wants me, Frank. It wants a soul." As her final words were spoken, Kirsty began to twist, her flesh separating and sliding apart in unbleeding chunks, to form ever more alien configurations.

"Fuck me, Frank.", she begged him as she twisted and unraveled before him. "Fuck me like you fucked all those whores. Let me show you the way."


	13. Kirsty solves the box

There was a chilling sound of scraping golden metal rails ground by minute cogs, as the final mechanism of the box raised up a top half of it in Kirsty's hands, turned it 45 degrees, forming a completely new configuration, before letting it fall back down again with a loud clack that woke Frank up within his bed, gasping for air to scream with, his heart pounding in his chest.

...but there was no box this time, and thank god no Kirsty. She'd probably gone up before him. They had just one more day together, and then she'd be back with her parents, and he'd sell off the box somewhere, or maybe bury it in the backyard, maybe even burn it.

He found her sitting there on the kitchen floor, in the same old lotus position, fully dressed this time, staring in front of herself with a vacant stare that slowly made his world come crashing down around him.

She wasn't moving. She was done.

"No.", he exclaimed before rushing to her aid in growing panic. "No-no-no-no-no-no!" As he tried to shake her back into reality, the starshaped box fell out of her lifeless hands and onto the floor, its sealing now complete. "Jesus, this can't be happening! We had just one day left!" He took her in his arms as started slapping her cheek. "Kirsty! Wake up! Wake up!" ...but although her unblinking eyes were wide open, she was far gone. He hugged her tight, pleading for her to return from the bottom of his heart, more out of desperation than of reason. ...but she was basically dead. He had basically killed her soul, because he'd done nothing to stop her. Jesus, he was so fucked too. What was he going to tell his brother?


	14. Frank goes after Kirsty

After lifting her over to the bed, he verified that she was at least breathing. Her breath wasn't normal, but her breathing reflex was still strong enough to keep her alive and feed her dormant brain with enough oxygen. There was still time.

Her eyes were next. Going into the kitchen he got a glass of lukewarm water and carefully let a few drips hit her corneas. There was no response, but at least he could now safely shut her eyelids.

He went into the hallway and looked at the phone on the wall. As a last option he could phone for an ambulance. That meant that they would conclude that she had slipped into an explicable coma, for which they wouldn't find a cure, and she would spend the rest of her life being fed intravenously until there was awkward talks about organ donation.

He had a much better chance of saving her. Even though the last time he studied the texts was more than a decade ago, he still remember some passages about bringing people back from Samadhi. Turning to case 42 in the book, he found one passage. In Bodhidharma's meeting with Huike, he found another. All he needed to do now, was understand enough to reach her.

...but he wasn't going to be a fool about it. He was putting his own soul on the line, and without precautions his brother would just find two comatose people when he arrived. Rummaging through his basement in the section where his neice had found the box, he soon found another book - European, and more modern.

He put the large tip of the nail against the measured out trigger point and tried to calm himself by drawing long, deep breaths. He'd never done this with an ordinary house nail before, but even if there was so much as a sowing needle in the house, he was sure that it wouldn't generate the magnitude he required to anchor him firmly enough into Dukkha. This was for Kirsty.

The world exploded as the strike hit, and he had to catch himself from collapsing on the floor. The nail just went into the flesh and soon fell out. He needed more force - more determination - to get this done properly. One koan - one nail. Another koan - another nail. It would gradually become easier.


	15. Kirsty learns the true meaning of fear

Out of the perfect nothingness of existence, she slowly became aware of something happening. A strange presence had begun to seep into in the room from the rest of the house, that somehow managed to garner her attention. ...but it was the occational punctuations that stirred actual concern in her - sudden spikes of anguish that heralded a strange tonal shift, into sinister night. It was as if the sun had dropped out of the sky, or it no longer reached her corner of the Earth. She found that this wasn't the usual kind of cold night air, but a cold whose chills could easily penetrate the skin, and reach deep into her spine - a sensation impossible to deny or dismiss. Back in her body, Kirsty began inspecting the surroundings that was the bedroom, when she noticed the figure standing in the doorway.

"Frank?", she mumbled.

"No.", the hollow voice declared, a plume of icy breath forming as it spoke. "There is no more 'Frank'."

The figure slowly strode into the bedroom with an undeniable majestic presence that sucked up all her perception - a stark contrast to all the meaninglessness around her.

It was now that she became aware of the restraints that she had been tied up with, spreading her up to each of the four bedposts.

"What is this?", she raised her voice over an unearthly wind that was whining through the room. "Who are you?"

"You've been 'a very naughty girl', Kirsty.", the figure spoke.

In the pale blue light from the window, she could see its face clearly now. It partly looked like Frank, but with numerous nails protruding from its face in some kind of ordered pattern. ...but it was the lack of humanity in its voice that told her that this wasn't Frank. Not anymore.

"Frank, what have you done?!" She tried to sit up, but the restraints prevented her. "What are you doing?!"

"Always hungring for answers. Always eager to learn.", the figure reflected. She wasn't sure what was making her shiver more - the room temperature, or the figure's soulless voice. Somewhere she thought she could hear the slow rattling of hanging chains.

"Why am I tied up? Did you do this?!"

"...because even now, you still have so much to learn, Kirsty. ...and as a teacher, it falls upon me to teach you some humility."

Kirsty instinctively began tugging at the restraints. She thought she had dissolved her fears along with everything meaning in existence, but somehow this monster had redefined the very concept of it.

"Don't bother. You're not getting away that easily.", it spoke in the same lifeless voice. "You'll only struggle yourself tired before we've even begun."

"Wait! What are you gonna do to me?"

"Far less than I'm capable of, I assure you. It is truly a shame and a missed opportunity, that I am not at liberty to leave any visible marks on your body. ...but I have ways. There's so much deeper flavours of violation to mold you with."

Noticing now that she was completely naked, Kirsty let out a paniced scream as the figure climbed on top of the bed.


	16. Kirsty gets what's coming to her

 

Kirsty winced from disgust feeling the fingers of what was once her uncle slowly trace up her shuddering body, tickling every goosebump along her stomach and up across the side of her stiffened left breast.

"Ah. The beauty of youth.", it spoke, grabbing her jaw with a firm hand, and turning her head for inspection. "The architecture to invoke desire, to ensnare into coitus."

"Go to hell.", she growled in defiance.

"Mind your manners." It brought down a hand on her right breast, kneading it like dough, before lifting it up by the nipple, lightly stretching its skin, sending an unwlecome mix of pleasure and pain into her skull. "You will join me there in but a moment."

"Please! No!", she begged as it gripped her thighs and dragged her whole body down toward it. She could see the long, veiny erection, poised to take her virginity. "Not like this!", she whimpered. ...but deep down she knew that the figure had spoken the truth. What was going to fuck her wasn't even her uncle, but something much, much worse. In paniced desperation, Kirsty began to kick and scream in a wild frenzy, her restraints making it into nothing more than a silly, childish tantrum. As the monster lowered itself on top of her, and she could feel the cold gland slide down over her exposed clitoris, and down between her parting labia, she burst into tears. "Mommy! Daddy! Pleeease!"

The next moment her tears cut short into a shocked gasp, as its first thrust speared her, shaking her entire body from the force before it stiffened up as from a death spasm. It had cut through her hymen like it wasn't there, rammed up her impossibly lubricated canal, and burrowed itself straight into the cervix to her womb.

She couldn't do more than gawk, struggling to comprehend what had just occured. Before she was able to recover, it was followed by another, equally ferocious thrust, sending another shockwave through her mind, and then a third, pushing all the air out of her lungs once again.

Feeling its cold intrusion inside her, she stared wide-eyed at the monster, as it gritted Frank's teeth, grunting with an uncaring fury she'd never seen before as the fourth and fifth thrust shook her. She felt also felt something even more terrifying: How her own will in the matter had slowly began to sink, into the irrelevant darkness of the back of her mind, and how mating instincts was now taking hold of a body that was no longer hers, as if her personality had just been a mask it wore, to now be discarded when it was no longer needed.

The monster gripped the hair on the back of her head and bent her head back as it continued to thrust. "You're such a fucking whore, Kirsty. You're all fucking whores." It spoke with Frank's voice now. "I'm gonna give you exactly what filthy whores like you deserve."

Kirsty, from the back of her head, could do nothing but feel her body moan lustingly in response. It wanted it. It craved it. Kirsty's screams didn't even reach what was once her own lips anymore.

Her body doing its best to accomodate the monster's ramming, Kirsty soon felt her muscles begin to contract in her first penetrated orgasm. The feeling of absolute bliss washed over her, drenching her senses and making her feel like she was drowning in it.

She swam up through it all, and wrestling possession from her own lips, she began muttering pleads between the gasps and moans and drawing of breath. "Please. I don't want this. Please stop. Please.".

"Good, child. Let it all out. Daddy's here.", it spoke in a strange mix of its and Frank's voice.

As the monster continued to mercilessly work her, in a neverending pounding, the patriarchs around them slowly began to step back into the shadows from which they came, abandoning her to her new master.

"Do you see now, Kirsty? Where there's a heaven, there's also a hell."

Her body was by now eagerly meeting his violent thrusts with its own, their bodies grunting together in pleasure from a sensation so intense that it transcended both pain and pleasure, Kirsty tumbling about inside her own skull, desperately trying to find any sort of sanity to cling to, and finding nothing. As the monster that was once her uncle so finally burrowed itself deep into her cervix, and released its load right through the floodgates to her innermost sanctum, she could do nothing but scream out, in equal portions of disgust and climax, witnessing her hip pressing down to secure the transmission, and the throbbing sensation of her traitorous vaginal muscles contracting to draw it all inside her.

...and after that, her defeat was complete, and all that she had ever been, felt or thought, was proven worthless.

 

"...you bitch!", Frank growled with a final thrust of his cock before coming to a final halt inside her. "Look at me, Kirsty!", he commanded.

Kirsty's face was distorted in a mix of shock and vacancy, but he knew that he'd picked her down from the sky, and that the vacancy would fade soon enough.

"That's right. This is what happens to little teases. I hope you've learned you lesson, because now you're mine, you fucking bitch."

 

After it had left, Kirsty could finally burst into tears. She lay there crying, her uncle's semen slowly dripping from her pussy, until she just couldn't cry anymore. She felt so broken inside that she was certain she'd die.

From that point on, everything changed.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> This may have ended a bit abruptly, but that's intentional. My reboot now continues into the sequel Hellbound (which is a separate work here).
> 
> Let me know what you thought about this story below. If you thought it sucked, then tell me what you would have done better.


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